Giving Me Everything
by See Them Llamas Run
Summary: John can't take it anymore, so he runs away. And then everyone else gets involved. Review, please.
1. In Which Andy's Thoughts Are Interrupted

A/N: It sucks. Seriously. But read it anyway! Because I have fun writing it.

Disclaimer: Llamas does not own the Breakfast Club.

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**Chapter One:**

**In Which Andy's Thoughts Are Interrupted**

Andy couldn't really stop thinking about Alison. It wasn't so much because he liked her, but because he had never met anybody like her before. It was bizarre, because there was nothing extra special about her – only eccentric behaviors and sharp eyes – and even stranger that he couldn't remember ever seeing her before that Saturday. Suddenly this girl he didn't know was all he was all he thought about.

When he saw her the Monday after he hadn't said anything to her. He wished he had, but he knew that he couldn't. She was back in her old mangy clothes, looking like a demon-possessed bum, and he was surrounded by his friends and he remembered what Claire said about him. He didn't want to lie to his friends and tell them that he didn't really _know_ Alison. He didn't want to treat her like she was nothing. (She wasn't nothing.) So he simply didn't acknowledge her.

Admittedly, that probably wasn't the nicest thing to do. But it wasn't like Alison even _looked_ at him. Every time he neared her, she would turn around and walk the other direction.

He knew why she did it. He tried not to think about that.

Sometimes, when he least expected it, the image of Alison's face would come into his head. Her chin would jut out in defiance, her eyes sparkling hypnotically, her lips pink and smooth. (He wanted to touch them.) Slowly, more would be attached to the face: a head of thick hair and a slender, pale body. She wouldn't be hidden by a dark overcoat. She would be wearing nothing but a red bikini – nothing to cover her curves or her long, thin belly – and she would look at him and smile sweetly like she had nothing to hide. After that, Andrew made himself think of something else.

She wasn't his type. His dad would _hate_ her.

(She was desperate and beautiful and lonely, and so was Andrew, and he wanted her so, _so_ badly.)

It was eight thirty-seven PM, and he was reading about graphs and trying not to think about her, when there was a noise at his window.

_Tap._

He hoped it wasn't some ex-girlfriend throwing rocks in attempt to romance him. He really couldn't deal with that right now.

_Taptaptap._

The light was on in his room, but he wondered if he could pretend that he was asleep. He closed his book and laid down.

_Thump._

He sat up. That wasn't just a pebble.

He quickly went to the window before something else large and heavy could be thrown. It was sort of dark out side and he couldn't see who was out there, but he immediately realized that it wasn't a girl. "What the hell? You're going to break my window."

"Shhh!" said the person. "You're gonna get me caught. Anyway, you weren't answering."

Andy blinked a few times in surprise, thinking to himself that he should have his ears checked. There was no way he heard the voice he just heard. "Bender?" he asked.

"_No_, your grandma," the guy scoffed sarcastically. "Are you gonna let me up or what? I need a place to sleep."

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A/N: Please review? Tell me if I should keep posting. And also, give me an idea for a better title.

I feel as if there isn't enough profanity...yet...


	2. In Which John Gets Andy Involved

A/N: Hmm...hopefully I'll get better feedback on this chapter...

Disclaimer: Llamas does not own the Breakfast Club.

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****Chapter Two:**

**In Which John Gets Andy Involved**

Andy apparently didn't have a vine or anything by his window that could simply be climbed up. John had to get creative and climb a tree, then maneuver his way to Andy's window by walking very carefully along the drainpipes. John became illogically angry at the house for not being more convenient. A few times he almost fell; it scared the hell out of him.

He was glad when he was safely inside. Except he wasn't, because shit, it was _Andy's_ house. If anyone found out, spending the night at a wrestler's place would do wonders for his reputation.

"Hey, nice place you got here. Lots of trophies, lots of school spirit – nothing like I would expect from an athlete. Good work going against the flow! You're a true hero."

"What do you want?" asked Andrew.

"A little slow on the uptake?" said John. "I already told you, I need somewhere to spend the night."

"So naturally, you come here. How do you even know where I live?"

"Let's just say I know somebody who TP's the houses of assholes like you. I'd be on the lookout, by the way, your turn is coming up soon."

"Fantastic. And do you mind telling me _why_ you had to come here?"

"Cuz I couldn't sleep on the street? Honestly, Andrew. I thought you were a pretty sensitive, caring guy. You wouldn't want me to catch cold, would you?"

Andy scowled deeply at him in obvious frustration, which didn't actually have that much affect on John. He sat down and began to take off his shoes. So Andy told him, "Well sorry, but you can't stay here."

John snapped his head up. "Why the hell not?"

"Why the hell should I _let_ you? You can't just strut in here and do whatever you want. My parents are downstairs. What makes you think I _want_ you here? Your not my friend, Bender."

"That hurts, Andy. It really does. I thought we were buddies and all, after our little heart to heart with the gang a few weeks ago. Doesn't our relationship mean anything to you?"

Andy was starting to look a little pissed, which wasn't exactly what John had intended. It was just what he naturally did – without thinking about it, he always tried to make people angry. "Everything's just a big joke to you," said Andrew. "Get out of here before I call my parents up."

"Oh, I'm real scared. And who said I was joking?" There was more truth in that statement than John had intended.

"Yeah? Then why _are_ you here?"

Andy still wore an irritated expression, but his eyebrows un-furrowed just a bit, and John knew that he would listen. "If I tell you," he said sternly, "you can't tell _anyone_. Got it?"

Andy sat down on his bed and looked at where John was on the floor. His face grew softer still. "Fine," he agreed.

"It's my dad."

"Okay."

John put a look on his face that he hoped was one of determination and defiance. He thought about the earlier events of the day, about how his father had always treated him, and he knew that what he was doing was absolute. "I'm not going back."

After a moment of contemplative quietness, Andy asked, "Why not?"

"He's going to kill me if I do," John said simply. "And if he doesn't, I'll kill myself. I'm not living with that anymore." He began to peel his socks off. "So I need somewhere to sleep. I won't stay all day, I just don't wanna spend the nights on the streets, y'know?"

Andy didn't say anything. John was suddenly afraid that he really _wouldn't_ let him stay. That wasn't an option – John couldn't be homeless, he couldn't survive like that – and where else was he supposed to go? "You won't even know I'm here," he continued hastily. "I mean, no one will, right? I'll just spend the night, and be gone when you wake up. You don't have to talk to me or anything."

It was another few moments before Andy said anything. He asked quietly – timidly, as if he was afraid of the answer – "Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack, Tights."

Andrew rolled his eyes. "Call me that again and I'm kicking you out." Then he said, more seriously, "You can't stay in my room. My mom will see you for sure and flip out. But we have an attic that no one goes up in except to get out the Christmas decorations. There's an entryway in my closet. I'll get you some extra blankets and stuff; it gets pretty cold up there."

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A/N: Y'all review, now!


	3. In Which Claire Follows Her Heart

A/N: The title has changed from "The Breakfast Club Saves The Day" to "Giving Me Everything." It's still lame, but at least it's a little better.

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**Chapter Three:**

**In Which Claire Follows Her Heart And Bad Things Happen**

She couldn't get him out of her head.

It was like an obsession.

Nothing she did could make her forget him. Quite the opposite, in fact, everything she did reminded her of him. Mealtime reminded her about his comment on her lunch, her parents reminded her of his cruel criticisms, reading reminded her of his disregard for literature, sleeping just led to dreaming about him, and school. School was the worst. The very sight of the building made her uneasy; she couldn't speak to her friends without remembering him, or study or ask the teacher a question or meet new people without remembering him.

It wasn't just him. It was all of them. He was just the worst.

It had been three weeks. She hadn't spoken to any of them.

That's not how she planned it. She wanted to say hello to Brian and prove to everyone that she was better than that. But when Monday came around, she lost the nerve.

She told herself that it wasn't completely her fault, because none of them talked to her either. Certainly not John. He never even glanced in her direction. (She knew – her staring was anything but discreet.)

It didn't help that she remembered some of the faces in his wallet. She saw some of them at school, and soon found herself checking the face of every girl to make sure that it wasn't one that he carried in his pocket. She hated them all. She wanted him all for herself.

In addition, she paid attention to whoever was claiming him. Tabitha Harris boasted that she was his main girlfriend, but that neither of them was exclusive. They just liked each other best out of all the others. Claire heard her talk about it every day. Tabitha was in her civics class.

Claire thought that John deserved somebody who would respect him, not brag about him like he was a possession or sleep around just because she could. Typically, Claire wasn't the type who gave respect, but who demanded it. John was a special case.

"So last night Bender was supposed to take me out," Claire overheard Tabitha saying in class. She hated to look at her. Tabitha wore too much black and had strands of blue in her hair. "He stood me up," she continued.

One of her friends said that was totally lame.

"I know, right? Like, I totally get that he's got other girls, but if he really gives a shit about me, he'll do everything to show it."

Claire turned around in her seat to tell Tabitha, "Excuse me, but how do you know he _does_ give a shit about you?"

Tabitha's mouth dropped open. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm…" Who was she? "I'm John's friend. If he cares about you so much, why didn't he ever mention you to me?" It was mostly true – Bender had never said anything about a "main girl" while they were in detention.

"John's friend," Tabitha repeated. "Well I'm John's girlfriend. Why didn't he ever mention _you_ to _me_?"

"Because maybe you don't matter enough to him," retorted Claire. She could feel the gazes of the people around her; people who wouldn't hesitate to spread the word about her peculiar interest in John Bender. For once, she couldn't bring herself to care.

"I know what you are," Tabitha said, smiling smugly again. "You're one of the pictures in his wallet. He carries you everywhere he goes, right? And that makes you feel good about yourself. I'm shocked. I never thought he'd condescend to a little shit like you."

Her words were like a slap in the face. Claire bit the inside of her cheek. "He doesn't love you," she blurted.

"No?" Tabitha snapped, suddenly angry. "He doesn't love you, either."

Claire turned back around and didn't say anything else for the rest of the class period.

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A/N: Please review! I really can't continue without feedback.


	4. In Which John Gets Robbed

A/N: Hmm...I think this chapter is a little random. You be the judge, I guess.

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Chapter Four:

**In Which John Gets Robbed**

The attic was just as cold as Andrew said it would be and dusty enough that John spent a good part of the night sneezing. He didn't sleep very well, but he was glad that he was at least under a roof. By the time he woke up, school had already started, so he snuck quietly out the window and decided to just hang around for the rest of the day.

It was the time of the year just after winter and right before spring, when the ground was dry but the weather was chillingly windy, and it would only get worse before it got better. John went to an arcade so he could stay indoors. He didn't play any games, however; he only had twenty-three dollars and nineteen cents, and food wasn't cheap.

He wondered if this really did make him _homeless_. It was a strange thought.

No matter what, he wasn't going back. Those people hated him; they wanted him dead, and John sure as hell wasn't about to give them _that_ pleasure.

He had never felt ashamed about his family before; he had always demanded pity from anyone who knew about his home life. In the hardest times, pity was the only form of kindness to hope for. But after that Saturday, pity became such a trivial, undeserved thing compared to people like them. _They _deserved pity. John deserved to go shrivel up in a corner and die sometimes, because he always treated people the same way that his parents treated him.

Brian wanted to kill himself – John was afraid to die. Andy was trapped by the people he loved most – John was free and defiant. Alison was treated like a ghost – John was treated like a warlord. Claire felt hopeless and pointless even though everyone loved her – John was…John was…

_Claire._

There were some things he just couldn't think about.

Before that Saturday she was just a stuck-up beauty queen, and John thought he deserved so much better. Now he felt inferior next to her, like she was too great to even consider. He was shit compared to her.

(He couldn't forget when she had come into the closet with a look on her face like she was made only for him. No one else had ever looked at him like that before, and maybe, in the end, that's what made her so special.)

He stayed at the arcade until they kicked him out for loitering. And _that_ wasn't fucking fair.

For lunch he went to 7-11 and bought a couple of those coconut ball things, which tasted pretty disgusting but were relatively cheap and made him not-hungry. Then he went to the park and took a nap on a bench (good god – he _was_ homeless) for about an hour. It was freezing, but it passed the time.

The reason he woke up, however, wasn't the cold.

"Hey, Johnny," said someone. It was a woman.

_Shit._

John opened his eyes and sat up. "Hey – uh – " He wished he could use his sleepiness as an excuse as to why he couldn't remember her name. (Even with girls he had run into a hundred times, he was never good with their names.)

She was dressed in a long fur overcoat that was open enough to reveal a lacy undergarment and a bit of her chest. John blinked a few times before his eyes moved to her face.

"Uh…Linda?"

"Miranda," she corrected. "Close enough."

"Right," he mumbled."

"Sure is chilly. What brings you to the park bench, Johnny? Aren't you supposed to be in school?"

"Aren't you supposed to be _working_?" he asked. "Does this look like a dark alley to you? Your customers aren't gonna know how to find you."

"I was taking my dog for a walk" – John took note of the obvious lack of canine – "and saw you lying around, so I thought I'd come and get the rest of my money."

John was taken aback. "Hell no!"

"Oh, come on, Johnny," she said, grinning. "Do we have to go through this every time?"

"I already paid _most_ of it, bitch," he snapped. "That's not fucking fair. You fooled me; I was drunk and you failed to tell me that you were _for sale_ – "

"I'm not asking what's fair. I'm asking for my money."

"It's kind of a bad time."

Miranda let out a long sigh. "I thought you might say that. It's not very considerate of you, Johnny; you have to remember what _I'm_ going through too, you know. You think it's all good times for me?"

"Kiss off."

"Fine. But just to let you know, you're too deep of a sleeper."

John swore at her as she walked away, secretly breathing a sigh of relief that she was giving up so easily. He watched the back of her fur coat get farther and farther away until it disappeared, and he thought about how she was such bad luck and that she was just like every other girl. Whore or not, they all had their fun with him and then treated him like he owed them something.

(Sometimes, though, he thought that it was better than being completely ignored. He'd caught Claire staring a few times, but she'd still neglected to speak to him at all.)

The thought to check his money didn't occur to him until Miranda was completely out of sight. He shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out…

One dollar and a nickel.

John swore and kicked the side of the bench, but that just made his foot hurt.

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A/N: Y'all review now.


	5. In Which Andy Does The Right Thing

A/N: So here's the dilemma. I've written up to fifteen chapters of this fanfiction already and it's getting way too long. Here's for you, readers, to decide - would you prefer frequent updates with short chapters, or longer chapters and less updates? If I don't get any feedback on that, I'm just going to continue like it is.

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Chapter Five:

**In Which Andy Probably Does The Right Thing**

It was 7:48 PM when John climbed through the window. "Hey, Cinderella," he said with a smirk.

"I thought you said I wouldn't notice you." Andrew didn't look up from his homework. "Where have you been all day?"

"I met up with some of your buddies from the country club. We went golfing and drank some root beer. Thanks for being concerned, mom."

"Don't be a smartass, smartass."

Andy went back to his worksheet about genetics for a minute and a half before realizing that Bender was still standing in his room. He was looking at the pictures on his dresser.

"Is that your girlfriend?" he asked. He held up a picture of Andy with his arm around a girl. It was a few months old; they had been at a theme park in the summer.

"No," Andy replied.

"You keep a picture of your ex-girlfriend on your dresser? Isn't that a little pathetic?"

Andy actually laughed. "We never dated."

"Didn't take you for that kind of guy."

"She's my sister, dumbass."

Bender looked curiously at him before asking, "What kind of dope as a picture of his _sister_ in his room?"

"The kind of dope who only sees her once a year. She goes to college in California."

To Andy's surprise, Bender put on a weird sort of smile and said, almost pleasantly, "I didn't know you had any siblings."

"Well now you do."

"You always came off like a spoiled only child."

_So much for pleasant_, thought Andrew, feeling exasperated. "I thought you said you were just coming here to sleep. Shouldn't you be doing that? In the attic?"

"Yeah…about that," Bender said with a cough.

"What, you want something else? I'm not giving you any money."

"Money's the problem all right, but it's not what I want."

"Out of dope?" Andrew scoffed. "I don't have any on hand, sorry."

"Oh, that would be nice, but I was thinking something more along the lines of food."

Food?

Shit. How did _Andy_ get into this situation? Taking care of runaway delinquents did not fit his job description.

"It's kind of a long story," Bender continued casually, leaning against the wall and pulling out a cigarette from a half empty pack, "but basically a whore stole my lunch money while I was sleeping in the park. I was kinda hoping on getting some dinner, y'know? All I had for lunch was two Snowballs."

Andy took a deep breath. John was starting to piss him off. He apparently assumed that it would be easy for Andy to let someone like him stay in his house. He didn't trust John. So far, John hadn't given him a good reason for even being there. "Bender," he said firmly. "Why are you here?"

This reply seemed to exasperate John. He glared at Andy through shifty eyes, as if he should be ashamed for asking that. "I already told you. Are you going to feed me or not? I'm fucking hungry."

Andrew wished he could just say no. He wished he could say he didn't like Bender and just kick him out of his house. John was stupid and loud and always demanded what he wanted; Andy was nothing like him. He didn't need to like him. He could easily say that he didn't.

But then he remembered John stuffing his drugs into Brian's pants and telling them to make a run for it, and he felt like he owed it to him even after all the horrible things that Bender always said.

"Just hold on a minute," Andy said. Sometimes he hated himself for always doing what was asked of him. "And you better get in the attic before my mom comes up to get the laundry."

Bender mumbled something about doing his own damn laundry as Andy left the room to find leftovers from dinner.

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A/N: Please review! I can't continue without feedback.


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